


An Unexpected Connection

by End_Transmission



Category: Dayshift At Freddy's, Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Child!Michael, DSAF - Freeform, DSaF Spoilers, Dayshift at Freddy's Fangame, Post-Good Ending DSaF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22888123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/End_Transmission/pseuds/End_Transmission
Summary: Jack Kennedy is enjoying his retirement. He's got a successful business, a house, a phone man. So what if he is a little traumatized by his brush with evil incarnate? Who cares if his entire family moved on to the afterlife without him? Okay so he's missing a soul. Big deal. He's fine. Just fine. And he is definitely under no obligation to help the strange, aubergine child standing on his doorstep. No matter how big the boy's eyes, or how hopeful his face.No matter how much the child reminds him of Dave.
Relationships: Jack Kennedy & Michael Afton, Jack Kennedy/Dave Miller (Dayshift at Freddy's)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 205





	An Unexpected Connection

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a fun little side-project while I work on my FNAF AU. I'm not even sure yet if I'll add chapters, or if it'll stand alone as a one-shot. If there are more chapters, they'll just trickle in, so don't expect super quick updates. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it anyway!

The quiet stillness of the afternoon was broken by the sudden, shrill ring of a doorbell. It was followed by another, then another, and so on. The first few rings went unheard by the house's sole occupant, who was splayed out diagonally across his bed, head hanging slightly off the edge as he snored away. It was around the tenth or so ring that the man shot awake with a loud snort. He blinked in confusion and slowly righted himself on the bed, reaching up to wipe away some of the drool that'd gathered at the edge of his mouth and dribbled down his chin. He looked around his bedroom, uncertain as to what had woken him. Until the doorbell rang again. 

"What time is it?" Jack Kennedy muttered to himself as he slipped from his bed and got to his feet. He glanced at his clock - six p.m. He guessed that was a normal time for visitors - if a person often got visitors. Jack was a known recluse, and there weren't many people that were all that interested in interacting with the strange, orange man down the street. "I swear, Phoney, if you're here to bother me about some bear. business, I'm replacing you with an android." Jack muttered. He grabbed the top sheet off of his bed and wrapped it haphazardly around his waist. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming!" He shouted as the doorbell went off again. He made his way downstairs and over to the front door, dodging around scattered clothes and even a stray bottle. He grabbed the handle and wrenched the door open - only to find empty space where he'd expected a person. A phone, if he were honest. 

"Are you shitting me?" He asked in disbelief. After all of that - waking him up, making him come downstairs - there was no one at the door. Had he been ding-dong ditched? "Jesus Christ," he muttered. Then, on a whim, he looked down - and promptly let out a perfectly manly scream. 

It was echoed by the child in front of him, who jumped back - and almost immediately tripped off the porch and landed flat on his butt. The two stared at each other for a long and awkward moment, almost at a standstill, neither one willing to move for fear of startling the other - or showing weakness. 

"Dave…?" Jack asked. It was impossible, he knew that - it'd been almost six months since he'd urged Dave to move on, Blackjack clutched in the man's arms. But the kid in front of Jack right now looked  _ so much  _ like Dave. He was lanky and small, all legs and arms and proportions that just weren't quite right for a human. He was staring up at Jack with wide, blue eyes - they, along with his messy head of black hair, were the only normal thing about the kid. 

Because his skin was a very familiar, if  _ slightly _ lighter, shade of purple. 

The kid shook his head and climbed carefully to his feet. He looked down at himself and dusted off the ragged pair of jeans he was wearing, took a breath so deep his whole body expanded, then looked at Jack again. 

"H-Hi," the boy stammered, "are you - um, are you…oh, I forget, hang on -" He wrenched himself around in place and dug into the backpack slung over his shoulders, eventually digging out a wrinkled piece of paper. He unfolded it with shaky hands, all while Jack watched. The man knew he  _ could  _ just introduce himself, but he really just wanted to see where this was going. The boy looked down, read the paper, folded it back up, then looked to Jack again. "Are you Mr. Kennedy?" He asked. 

"Well, that depends," Jack answered, "who are you?" He jerked back slightly when the boy suddenly thrust out a hand towards Jack. 

"My name is Michael!" The boy exclaimed. They stared at each other, and Jack purposefully made no move to shake the child's hand. After an awkward second, Michael cleared his throat, pulled his hand back, and held out the note instead. "Um, this might help things make sense." Jack frowned, but took the note anyway. He gave the kid the side-eye, making sure that the boy wasn't going to try anything, and then Jack opened the letter, looked down, and read. 

_ Hello there, Michael! You don't know me, but I guess I'm your pa. That's what your ma says anyway and, well, it's hard to argue with the pictures. Your my spitting image! At least you got hair, lucky kid. Who knew a one night -  _

The next bit was blacked out heavily with a pen, so haphazardly that Jack could almost still make out the lurid story underneath it. Oversharing was a typical Dave move - blacking out the story, however, was surprisingly thoughtful of the man.

_ Anywhos, told your mom to give this to you if you ever asked 'bout me. I don't know much on kids and if I'm honest, probably ain't great for you to be around me. Let's just say kids and I don't get along all that well. But I guess it'd be okay if you ever wanna search me out. Don't know where I'll be, but I know a good place to start. Watch for orange people in the news - you see an orange guy, I won't be far behind! You tell him you know me, he'll get you to me. Probably. Maybe bring some pepper spray. _

_ It’s probably best if you don't, but hey, if you decide to come find me, I'll be glad to meet you, Michael. Don't let the world get you down - be proud of your aubergine roots!  _

_ Your da _

_ William _

Under Dave's scribble was another set - it looked as though, once he’d learned it, Michael had written Jack’s name in the margins of the note. That’s what Jack got for using his real name, he supposed. With a sigh, Jack looked away from the letter and at the kid. Michael was staring up at the man with wide, hopeful eyes. And once again, they stared at each other. Jack's thoughts were tumbling around a mile a minute. Dave had a kid. That wasn't actually all that surprising, given the man had been very  _exploratory_ , though until that moment Jack wouldn't have been certain Dave  _ could  _ have kids. But the fact that Dave had been  _ in touch  _ with his child was definitely a surprise. To understate it entirely, Dave didn't like kids - even the best part of his spirit had a kill count. Yet he'd sent a note for this kid - had opened the doors for some kind of connection. He’d all but urged the kid to keep his distance, but Jack could read between the lines - some part of Dave, once upon a time, had hoped his boy would search him out sometime. 

And now Michael was here, standing in front of Jack. He was here, and he'd have questions, concerns, wants - and now Jack would have to be the bearer of bad news. A child had come searching for his wayward father, and Jack would have to be the one to tell him he’d never get to meet the man.

Jack was probably the perfect one for the job, if he were honest. He didn't even have a soul, after all. He'd be able to look at this kid - how old was Michael anyway? Ten? Eleven? How'd he even  _ get  _ there? Where was his mother? Was this kid unlucky enough to draw two absent parents from the card game of life? Anyway. It'd be easy. All Jack had to do was crouch down, look the kid in the eye, tell him his father was dead and gone, and send him on his way. If he had to, Jack could even head back inside and slam the door on the boy's hopeful face. So what if the news made Michael sad? So what if Jack had no idea if the boy had the funds to get back home? So what if he may not even have a home to go to? None if that was Jack's problem. Jack had done plenty of good six months ago, when he'd helped defeat evil incarnate and had sent his entire family on its way to the afterlife. 

There was no one left to give a shit if Jack helped some wayward kid. There was absolutely no benefit in it for Jack. Dave would never even know.

"Yeah, I'm Mr. Kennedy," Jack said with a heavy sigh. He carefully folded the note and held it out, only letting it go once the kid had safely grasped it. "But do me a favor and just call me Jack. What’s your poison, kid?”

“Huh?” Michael asked. Jack rolled his eyes. 

“You want something to drink? Coffee or tea or...shit, you look kind of young, but hey, I got booze if you want it.” 

“Oh! Um...do you have orange juice?” 

“Yeah, sure. You like ice?” 

“Yes!” Michael exclaimed, then reddened slightly, “I mean...I do. Most people don’t think to ask…” 

“Yeah, well, I thought it might be a family trait,” Jack said, “Alright. Come on kid, why don’t you come in. I’ll throw some clothes on, get you a freshly iced glass of orange juice, and we can chat about your Pop.”

Jack turned back for the house and walked a few steps in, pausing when he didn’t hear movement behind him. He turned and looked at the kid, who was looking between Jack’s house and the street behind him. Well, it seemed like caution existed  _ somewhere  _ in the aubergine gene pool - or else the kid’s mom had managed to instill some values in him. 

“I’m not going to bite, or rob you - you don’t look like you’d have much anyway - or anything like that,” Jack said, “but hey, probably smart to question everything. I can give you the short story now and send you on your way - got some cash if you need it, even. But it’s all going to go down smoother if we sit and chat.” Michael didn’t answer right away, instead side-eyeing the adult. Then he turned fully towards Jack again.

“Does the orange juice have pulp in it?” Michael asked.

“Do I look like a heathen?” Jack responded, “Of course it does.” 

Michael blinked, then grinned and hitched his backpack up a bit more securely on his shoulders. In a move that would have made his dad proud, he threw caution to the wind and followed Jack inside. 


End file.
